I think I'm making progress. The three mile hike through gorgeous forests and meadows on Saturday felt easy, even on the hills. I could have started over and done it again.
On Sunday, I started a running program through an app on my newly purchased shiny white iPhone. For the first time in my adult life, I ran. I was the only person in sight on the track at Parkrose High School. In the rain, ugly New Balance sneakers tied up tight, rain coat unzipped, hip hop song in my ear, a pleasant voice started me on the 38 minute program. Nearly a dozen plump Canadian Geese lingered in grass in the center of the track. I felt foolish for feeling self conscious as they noticed me, when stopped their pecking as I lumbered past. One minute intervals of running should not have been so hard, but they were. The 1 1/2 minutes of walking in between did not allow my lungs to calm. I worried I might pass out on the track and that no one would find me until school started the next day. I only wished I had brought a bottle of water with me. But is that what runners do? I never see them running with water.
Thighs were a solid burn and so heavy as I started up the hill for the walk home. I wished for a minute I had some bread to feed the geese to thank them for not laughing.
My thighs still hurt two days later. The last running I can recall would have been for basketball or softball during my freshman year of high school. I hated it then too. My lungs do not support running. Breath sucks in so hard I can feel a scary indent in the small of my neck. My pale freckled face turns such a bright cherry red that people notice and ask me if I'm okay. Also, Joe tells me I'm flat footed, that I don't look right when I run. Just like dancing, he said, some people just know how to do it and some people don't.
Run two is tonight, likely in the rain again. This time I will bring water and bread crumbs.
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